A steady stream of water gushed from a pump operated by the
gasoline engine. Above, the stream bed was dry. Here was the origin of
the "beautiful mountain stream."
Chair-tilted in front of the shack sat a man smoking a pipe. He looked
up as Bob approached.
"Hullo," said he; "show over?"
He disappeared inside and shut off the gasoline engine. Immediately the
flow ceased; the stream dried up as though scorched. Presently the man
emerged, thrusting his hands into the armholes of an old coat. Shrugging
the garment into place, he snapped shut the padlock on the door.
"Come on," said he. "My rig's over behind that grease-wood. You're a
new one, ain't ye?"
Bob nodded.
"That horse is branded pretty thick," he said by way of diversion.
The man chuckled.
"Have to turn his skin other side out to get another one on," he agreed.
They drove down an old dim road that avoided the difficulties of the
canon. At camp they found the surries just loading up. Bob took his
place. Before the rigs started back, the gray man, catching sight of the
pump man, drew him aside and said several things very vigorously.
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